


wait for it

by erebones



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Frottage, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Morning Sex, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 10:13:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9717533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erebones/pseuds/erebones
Summary: Sometimes a person just doesn't feel like having sex. Carver doesn't mind.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A little fever fluff for the hallmark holiday. :) I've got some spiritassassin stuff in the pipeline too, so keep an eye out for that!

It’s not that dinner wasn’t great. Dinner was excellent. It was Carver’s turn to pick the place, and he somewhat abashedly brings them to the little Sicilian place where they’d had their first dinner date. There’s a fixed menu for Valentine’s day, but they order other things instead, and Carver politely ignores the slight delay in Felix’s responses as he struggles with the persistent ache in his sinuses and the slight fog of a lingering fever. Thankfully the worst is over, and Carver’s request for mulled wine has helped clear him out a little.

They hold hands on the table for a long while after the plates have been taken away, just talking and sipping their wine. And when that has been exhausted, Carver gets their coats and they bundle themselves out into the wintry February cold.

He feels the spark of interest between them in the cab like an abstract thought. Carver sits with his knees spread wide like he does when he needs to make a little extra room, and he has one arm around Felix’s shoulders, quietly inviting him into his space. Felix is happy to take it, snuggling in close and resting one hand on Carver’s thigh. Sometimes he squeezes there, very gently, in lieu of gesturing with his hands while he speaks, and every time a little rumbling noise escapes him that reverberates in Felix’s body.

It was a lovely evening. But Felix can’t help the relief that infuses him as they cross the threshold of their apartment, and Carver goes to put the kettle on. When he’s done, Felix has taken off his coat and boots and is just standing in the archway to the kitchen, feeling a bit lost at sea. There’s a warm fizzle of arousal banked inside of him, but his body is tired and achey, confusing the sensation.

Carver smiles and comes to him, snagging his belt loop with a forefinger and kissing him—his forehead, his cheek, the slope of his neck. The kisses aren’t particularly erotic, even though he knows Carver was getting a little worked up in the cab, just comfortable and soothing, thawing the cold that sticks stubbornly to his bones. He melts forward and puts his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder.

“Happy Valentine’s day,” Carver murmurs into his hair. He rubs his open hands over Felix’s back. “How are you feeling? Can I get you anything?”

“Painkillers?”

“Yeah, you’re about due for another dose. Go change into pyjamas and I’ll bring everything to you.”

Felix stays put for another moment, soaking up Carver’s warmth and bulk, and then steps away and drifts to the bedroom. The cat is a long, flat stretch of black fur against the comforter, and she squeaks when he pats her belly but doesn’t move. “I feel the same,” he says, pulling off his clothes. He doesn’t feel particularly like being tidy, so he lets everything fall where it will and puts on his own stretchy sleep pants and one of Carver’s old sweatshirts that Felix refused to let him throw out. It’s far too big, but it’s soft and well-worn, and he pulls the sleeves over his fingers and burrows into bed.

Carver comes in a little while later, bearing a tea tray. He turns the bedside light on low, just enough to illuminate the room in a soft golden glow as he sets the tray on the nightstand and passes Felix a mug of tea. Then he begins to undress.

Any interest Felix might have had in sex has disappeared, but he still watches his boyfriend admiringly over the rim of his mug. Carver is well worth looking at. He unbuttons his nice shirt fastidiously, rolls down the elbows, and even puts it on a hanger to get the wrinkles out. Underneath he’s broad and solid and pale, flecked with moles and freckles. His trousers he flings carelessly into the hamper, since he got sauce on them at dinner, and he arches his back until his spine pops, yawning. He’s still a little plump in his boxer briefs, but he ignores it, putting on an old t-shirt and crawling gingerly into bed, taking care not to jostle him.

“Enjoy the show?” he asks impishly, leaning in close. Felix smiles and kisses his smart, smiling mouth.

“I always do.”

“Mmf.” He kisses back, then resettles with one arm around Felix’s shoulder so that they can drink their tea and still be snuggled together as much as possible. “Oh, here. I almost forgot.” He nabs a few pills from the tray and drops them into Felix’s palm. “Tylenol PM.”

“Trying to put me to sleep?”

“You need it.” Carver rubs the back of his neck gently, and it feels amazing. “Drink your tea, love.”

Felix nudges into the pressure of his hand. “Don’t you want to…”

“Want to what?”

“Have sex?”

Carver quivers a little with suppressed laughter. “What kind of question is that? You’re not feeling well. You indulged me enough tonight with dinner.”

“I wanted to go to dinner,” Felix insists.

“Mm-hmm. And do you want to have sex?”

He considers the question. “Not particularly. But if you wanted to I wouldn’t mind.”

“Yeah, well. That’s not exactly very much incentive.” He kisses his temple swiftly to let him know he’s teasing. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

Felix considers the pills in his palm. He swallows them one at a time and washes them down with the rest of his tea, then puts the empty mug aside. “Just… hold me.”

“Yeah, all right. I can do that.”

Carver finishes his tea, too, and switches off the light. Together they burrow deeper under the covers. Felix lets his leg slip between Carver’s, and Carver pulls him against his chest, rubbing his hands up under his borrowed sweatshirt to stroke his back. Felix grumbles out a moan and pushes his nose into Carver’s chest. Curious and a little mischievous, he pets Carver’s tummy and lets his hand wander south, but Carver snatches his wrist away gently before he can cop a good feel. “Stop that,” he murmurs, voice thick with laughter. “I’m a big boy, I can wait.”

“I just wanted to feel,” Felix pouts, but he contents himself with stroking Carver’s hipbone instead. He lays his head on Carver’s chest and listens to his heartbeat. He can hear a little bit of gurgling, too, traveling up from his stomach, and the whooshing in-out of his breath. He shuts his eyes. “I love you,” he murmurs, half-asleep already.

Carver rumbles underneath him like a mountain, and squeezes him ever so gently. “I love you, too, sweetheart. So much.”

Felix means to wish him a good night, but his face is too tired to make the movements. Instead he just makes a little grunting sound, and lets himself slip off into sleep.

* * *

 

He’s just this side of too warm when he wakes up. Carver is still asleep, sprawled on his back with one leg hanging off the bed and the bedding shoved down around his waist; when Felix turns his face and presses his nose in a clumsy kiss to his bare shoulder, he doesn’t stir. Moving carefully, he peels back the duvet and squirms free of Carver’s borrowed sweatshirt, dropping it off the side of the bed. He’s tenting his leggings obscenely, but he ignores it for the moment, instead returning to snuggle in at Carver’s side. His skin is hot to the touch, like it always is. Felix spreads an open palm over his chest and shuts his eyes.

“Felt that,” Carver mumbles suddenly, startling him.

“Sorry.”

“Nnh, ’s fine.” He turns and drops his arm across Felix’s ribs, pulling him close enough that their knees knock together under the covers. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” he whispers, smiling.

Carver’s voice is scratchy and his eyes aren’t open all the way yet, but they crinkle into a smile anyway as Felix leans forward to kiss his hairy chin. “You’re really pretty.”

Felix snickers. “Why, thank you. You’re not so bad-looking yourself.” He scritches his nails in the thick stubble darkening his jaw. “Are you going to let this grow, finally? It’s been a few days since you last shaved. I think I like it.”

“Is it giving you… _ideas_?” he purrs, nudging between Felix’s knees with his own. It’s not quite enough to touch his erection, but Felix gets the general idea and blushes.

“I’m sorry, I just woke up and—”

“No _sorry_ , sweetheart,” Carver interrupts laughingly, touching their noses together. “It happens. You wanna… do something about it?”

Felix _does_. He bites his lip coyly and pets down the front of Carver’s bare stomach, firm beneath a layer of softness and fine, downy hair. “Do _you_?”

“I, uh. Yeah, that would be nice. I’m not—” His voice dies in his throat as Felix feels between his legs. He’s a little plump in his briefs, not quite halfway there. In comparison, Felix’s morning wood puts him to shame. But he has a little feel around anyway, hooking his forefinger in the slit to feel warm skin and coarse hair, a little humid from sleep, and Carver’s face grows pink. “Not all the way there yet,” he rasps, finishing his thought. “But, um, give me a minute and…”

Felix quiets him with a kiss, slow and shallow like the stroke of his finger. He pops the tiny little button on Carver’s briefs and gets the rest of his fingers inside, giving him a little squeeze. Carver grunts against his mouth and kisses him back with more intent.

“That’s it,” Felix whispers. He withdraws his hand to yank on the waistband and gasps as Carver’s hand finds its way down to squeeze his arse. “Hmmmm…”

Carver coaxes him onto his back and sprawls out over him, braced a little on one elbow to keep from crushing him into the mattress. Felix bends his knees, forming a little tent with the crumpled duvet, and tugs lightly on Carver’s dick through his briefs. He hums and sucks a tingling spot on the side of Felix’s neck, just light enough that he knows it won’t leave a visible mark, and only withdraws when Felix chuckles.

“What’s so funny?”

“I dunno… just… this? Morning sex under the covers with the lights off… mnh!” He bites off the rest of his thought as Carver sucks harder at his collarbones, then down his sternum.

“What’s wrong with that?” Carver grins up at him wickedly. “Should I have invested in a sex dungeon in my new place?”

“No-oooo,” Felix says, voice breaking. Carver’s got a hand down his leggings and is jacking him slow, with a firmer grip at the top of each stroke. Perfect. “I like it. I like…”

“Like what, baby?” He leans back, shaking off the duvet, and when he sits back on his heels to wrangle Felix free of his bottoms, his dick curves up hard and flushed from the slit in his briefs. He bats Felix’s hands away when he tries to reach for it and drags his leggings off and away. “Tell me.”

“I like having sex with you.”

Carver barks a laugh, startled and joyous, and only giggles harder when Felix kicks him gently. “Hey! Hey, no, I’m glad you like having sex with me.” He grabs his foot and kisses the inside of his ankle. “I like having sex with you, too.”

Felix sighs dramatically and flings his arms over his head, shutting his eyes. “I didn’t just mean—I mean yeah, I meant it that way, but I also meant… last night. That we can just go to sleep and not feel like we’re _supposed_ to do it a certain way, or a certain time. And… ugh. I don’t know what I’m trying to say.” He peeks one eye open and smiles shyly when he finds Carver just watching him, eyes soft and mouth curled up fondly at the corners. “D’you know what I mean?”

“Yeah.” Carver squeezes his thighs, follows the motion by hooking his hands under Felix’s knees and spreading him a little wider. “Yeah, I know what you mean.” He leans down.

The morning light filters vaguely through semi-sheer curtains, illuminating Carver’s pale skin with a soft glow as he bends and mouths open kisses to Felix’s cock. Felix lets a groan resonate through his chest, heartfelt, and his eyelids fall to half-mast as Carver works along his length patiently. His mouth is hot and soft, infinitely tender. Felix’s toes curl in the sheets and he gusts a sigh.

“Feels good, baby.”

“Mm.” Another kiss at the very base, chin brushing his bollocks, and then he drags his tongue up flat to curl against his frenulum. His eyelids flicker, peeking up; Felix grins and bites down on his thumb.

“Yeah… _yeah_. So fucking good at that.” He wriggles against the mattress as waves of sensation spill through him, and reaches down to get a handful of Carver’s dark hair. He’s blushing all the way to his hairline, and Felix rubs his thumb against his brow, hips easing back and forth. Carver pulls away and kisses his palm.

“Like that?”

“You know I do.” He props himself up on his elbows and leans forward, welcoming Carver’s tongue in his mouth. One large hand skims his inner thigh and takes his cock, and he wraps both arms around Carver’s neck instead, dragging him back down to the mattress. “C’mere. I want to feel you.”

“I’m here,” Carver whispers, pressing the words like a secret to the open seam of his lips. “I’m right here, love.”

Felix likes it like this more than almost anything else: Carver’s weight against him, pinning his thighs open with his own, pricks grinding together between their bellies as they kiss and stroke each other freely. He’s not exactly prepared for anal, but neither of them have the coordination anyway—Carver’s hands on him are clumsy and adoring, his mouth is hungry, and it’s enough. Felix hooks his ankles together against Carver’s arse and groans toward the ceiling as their bodies grind together.

“Is this… enough?” Carver asks, gasping. He burrows kisses along Felix’s neck until Felix grabs him by the hair again and pulls him up, kissing his bruised mouth.

“It’s perfect.” He cups his bristly face in both hands and tilts their foreheads together. Everything is over-warm beneath the last vestiges of the bedding—he can feel them both sweating where they’re pressed together, and every time Carver shifts it sends a new waft of musky arousal to his nose, heady, addictive. “Just a little more, baby, I’m almost there.”

Carver growls in satisfaction and kicks his hips forward, picking up the pace. Felix’s ankles are jostled apart but he keeps his knees up, calves hugging close to Carver’s flanks, and he can feel each stroke long and slippery with sweat and precum from balls to navel. Their bellies stick together briefly and Carver shudders and stalls. Before he can readjust, Felix reaches down with both hands and takes them both in his grip, a little bit dry but still so good. “Yeah,” Carver gasps, and he fucks his fist with sudden fervor that lights up in Felix’s pelvis like a Christmas tree. “Fuck, Felix… love…”

Felix cries out and arches his back. He’s hot and cold by turns, trembling, and maybe it’s a little bit of the fever still lingering in his system, but he sees spots as he comes, black specks dancing in his eyes even when he shuts them as tightly as he can. His grip is suddenly slick and loose, all his muscles turned to water with the force of his orgasm, but Carver picks up the slack. He palms the sticky mess on Felix’s belly and finishes himself with a few quick strokes. Wet heat splatters across Felix’s abdomen all the way up to his sternum, and then Carver is gasping and shaking over him, trying not to slump and crush him with his weight.

“C’mere,” Felix slurs, grabbing his shoulder and pushing him to the side. He snuggles in next to him, smearing ejaculate on Carver’s belly and on the sheets, but neither of them particularly cares.

“I should get a flannel,” Carver says after a bit. He doesn’t really sound like he wants to move from his spot on Felix’s shoulder.

“In a minute.” Felix sighs deeply, satiated. “Just… hold me.”

Eventually, Carver drags himself away and stumbles to the bathroom, leaving Felix to curl up in the patch of warmth he left behind. He can hear him fetching a flannel and running warm water, and then on his way back he bangs into something and swears, grumbling as he returns with a slight limp to his gait. Felix stifles a giggle.

“All right?”

“Fine. Stubbed my toe.” He sits on the edge of the bed and leans over to wipe Felix down, heedless of the stray smear of cum still stuck to his chest. Felix uncurls under the attention and reaches out to rub his warm skin appreciatively.

“You missed a spot.”

“Hmm? Oh.” He swipes that away, too, and then chucks the flannel at the laundry basket and leans over him, one arm braced on the mattress and a fond smile tugging at his grumpy expression. “Better?”

“Much.” He reaches up and runs his fingers through Carver’s fluffy hair, tangled with bedhead and sex, and bats his eyes. “Put the coffee on?”

“Oh, sure.”

“Wait!” He grabs Carver’s arm before he can pull away. “Kiss first.”

Carver snorts, but obeys. The kiss is warm and a little chaste until Felix licks at Carver’s mouth, and then it’s hot and slow, like a pot of water put on to simmer after a hearty boil. “Love you,” Carver mumbles without really pulling away. He grunts as Felix rubs his chest and shoulders before withdrawing. “Still want that coffee? Or should I come back to bed?”

“Yes to both,” Felix says decidedly. “I’m sick, after all, breakfast in bed doesn’t sound like an _outrageous_ idea.”

“Valentine’s Day was yesterday, you know that, right?” Carver teases, but he kisses him one more time and gets up, hunting down a clean pair of pants and some joggers. He doesn’t put a shirt on, which Felix appreciates. “Coffee and some heart-shaped pancakes, coming right up.”

Felix laughs but doesn’t dissuade him, pulling up the covers. He’s not really tired anymore, and in all honesty he doesn’t feel like lazing around listening to Carver cook. He wants to be in the same room with him, sitting at the island while Carver moves around the kitchen, humming under his breath and swearing indiscriminately at every tiny setback he encounters in the cooking process, real or imagined. Felix wriggles a little deeper under the covers and breathes in the smell of sleep and sex. The smell of _them_ , combined, and the promise of a lifetime with this man makes him smile and close his eyes. He’ll get up in a minute to help. For now, he’s content to give Carver a head start.


End file.
